Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood
by Hobbit Chicka 4 Jesus
Summary: This is a chick story! Guys, not for you- you wouldn't understand. This is about Rosie and her girlfriends, the Ya Yas. Based on LOTR and DSOTYYS.
1. Introduction

It was a hot day right in the middle of summer, with no rain for weeks but 98 degrees of humidity. A six-year-old Elanor was lying on an old quilted blanket in her front yard. Her classy, gorgeous mother was sweeping around the front yard, dancing with Teensy, Caro, and Ella, a cigarette and drink in one hand, the other leading the dance.  
  
Rosie threw her first-born a wink and a smile, and then she got back to strutting her twists and throws on the front lawn of Bag End, which was, tonight at least, a high-class dance floor for the Ya Yas and Petites Ya Yas.  
  
For dinner, all of the children and four girlfriends sat on blankets in the front yard, enjoying Gumbo Ya Ya salads and Bean Soup (with added Tabasco so as not to break the Ya Ya rules). After their bellies were round again, Rosie and the Ya Yas propped themselves up against the little garden fence beside the walls of Bag End, sipping mixtures of Shire Ale and strawberry cream, with small shots of Bourbon, and nothing on but small nightshirts and their panties. Their hair, curled in all its glory, was piled onto their heads and tied with old pillowcase fabric. Their Ya Ya faces resembled a sea of youth and glow, smiling as they watched their little angels, their petite babies, run around in little clothes- tailored by the Ya Yas themselves, just for summer nights in the Shire.  
  
Later, when Teensy and her seven little petites had laidn down and fallen asleep on old quilts in the living room, and when Diamond's pregnant belly dwelled at seven months, though somehow she managed to sleep, and later, when Estella Caroline's skinny body squeezed into the living room chair, as she dreamed of little ones she could've had if only her disease didn't affect her so. And then later, when Rosie and her little angels curled up in Sam and Rosie's bed, Elanor couldn't sleep. Her feet touched the wooden floor, and the six-year old stepped carefully across the house, watching so that she missed the creaking boards, and then she swept out the round green door.  
  
The little girl was especially strong and pretty, and on the nights when her father was away (like tonight) and she could not sleep, she walked to the Birthday Field, and she would begin to climb up the Birthday Tree her father had planted for Mr. Frodo, who she barely remembered.  
  
When Elanor reached the best branch and sat on it, she looked outward towards the Grey Havens, where she could see the Sea twinkle like a pool of fallen stars. And when she looked to the Sea, the elves would sing, and Elanor would smile, her eyes sparkling with delight as her lovely white nightgown blew in the warm breeze.  
  
And as she listened to the elves sing to her, and she imagined her father rocking her to sleep, Elanor Rose Gamgee knew there had never been a time when she was not loved. 


	2. Phone Calls

The daughter of a dreaming child-abuser. That's what The Minas Tirith Post had written about Elanor. She took another bite of her pancakes and read on. The daughter of a dreaming child-abuser, Elanor Gamgee has had a wretched life. Her parents did not care how she was raised, thus she moved to Minas Tirith at a young age. The Shire, where the young playwright hails from, is a dreamy place of villages and gardens, and small creatures called hobbits, of which both of Elanor's parents were, inhabit it. Elanor, however, is quite tall compared to the hobbits, standing at nearly 5 feet, 1 inch. In her latest theater production (directed and written by Elanor herself), Women of the Cusp, Elanor tells of her horrid, neglectful childhood through the story of four women from different lands. Miss Gamgee, however, does not thank herself for her success. Her mother was a smoker and an alcoholic, along with many other faults. "I have my mother thank for my creativity. If I would have had an easy childhood," states the dramatic beauty, "I would have nothing to write about." Another tear fell from the 22-year old's face. She hadn't said any of that. Except for that last quote. She had stated that last quote. But other than that, nothing. Oh, Valar have mercy, where did The Minas Tirith Post get all of that? Elanor threw the newspaper down and curled her legs up closer to her chest, her wavy platinum, long blonde hair starting to stick to her face from the crying. Mama's going to kill me, she thought. But she deserves it. I hate Rose Gamgee. I hate her. The phone rang from across the room in that small cottage in the heart of Minas Tirith. Elanor stared at it, still sobbing. She didn't know who it was. She didn't care. But she did know that since a few people in the Shire got The Minas Tirith Post delivered, she was going to be the town's 'perfect girl gone wrong'. Another ring from the telephone. What's Daddy going to say? A million and one horrible thoughts entered Elanor's mind. And Uncle Merry.and Uncle Pippin. A third ring from the phone. She stared at the receiver as the answering machine blinked and came on. "Hello, you've reached Elanor- I'm not home right now, but if you'd like to hear from me again, please leave your name and number after the beep! Thanks, and have a great day!" The beep came, and then a familiar voice rang out from the receiver. "Hey, Elanor, baby, it's me." The cutest accent in the world, just like her Uncle Pippin's. "I've been tryin' to call you for a little while and you won't pick up, so I'm starting to worry." This made Elanor smile a little and pull the blanket up over her more as she cuddled closer the pillows on her couch. Fastred was such a worry wart. "I'm coming over there and I'll break down your door if I have to. Love you, baby." Elanor hugged her suede maroon pillow tighter to her chest. Why did it have to be this way? Mama, she thought, why couldn't you have raised me like a normal parent? Why was there always ale and bourbon on your breath? A knock on the door and the familiar voice of her fiancée. "Elanor? Where are you? Elanor? Ellllannnooorrrr?" She forced herself off of the couch and slumped to the small wooden door. There stood Fastred, out of breath and tired, obviously having run all the way from his cottage just a little ways down the narrow road, paved thousands of years ago with stones of Numenor and caves of Helm's Deep. "Fastred, what's got you so shaken up?" Elanor looked sympathetically, smiling a little, at Fastred. He looked relieved beyond words. "Oh, Elanor- thought you were, well, dead or something." Fastred threw his arms Elanor. He wasn't a hobbit, but a Man, and was quite a bit taller than she would ever be, although until a hobbit is 33 they continue to grow. She still had a little over ten years to get taller, and she was already quite unusually tall for a hobbit, with normal feet, too. She'd never had hobbit feet, and her hair had never been curly, but naturally wavy; Elanor looked more like and elf maiden than a young hobbit lass. Her pulled back platinum blonde hair was still sticking to her face from crying. Fastred backed away a bit and lifted her chin, then smiled slightly and looked her straight in the eyes. "Still having trouble with Rosie Dahlin?" Everyone Elanor knew in Minas Tirith called her mother Rosie Dahlin, because in the Shire, no one said 'darling' it was always 'dahlin'. And instead of 'baby', it was always 'bebe'. More of a Southern Bayou accent existed in the Shire than an English one. "She hasn't called; no one from back home has." Elanor looked a bit defeated, but she continued. "I got a letter from Mama, though. She cut up all of the pictures she had of me, then burned them and sent them in the post." Fastred shook his head. "I will never understand that whole story between you and your Mum. Never, ever." Elanor sighed and closed her eyes, then reopened them. "You don't want to." The phone rang, and Elanor looked at it and then looked thoroughly alarmed as Fastred walked towards the receiver. Elanor took a knife off of the kitchen counter and pointed it at Fastred, obviously freaked out. "Don't you answer that, Fastred! I know it's her. I know it is her, don't you dare pick that phone up!" Fastred shook his head, rolled his eyes, and picked up the receiver. "Hello Rosie!" He was trying to sound as cheery as possible. A Southern accented voice on the other end of the line sounded upset but trying to act cheery as well. "Well hello Fastred! Um, is she there?" Fastred smiled and said, "Sure Rosie Dahlin, just a moment." He stretched out the receiver towards Elanor, whose lips were pursed and was shaking her head furiously. Fastred, in a hushed voice, held his hand over the phone so that Rosie couldn't hear, and he said, "Elanor, believe me, she's fine. Just talk to her, babe." Elanor calmed a bit and put the telephone receiver to her ear, taking a long breath before she said anything, and then all she could manage was a "Hi Mama." And right after she said that, there was screaming and the sound of banging on the other end of the line, and then Rosie's old voice. "YOU LITTLE BITCH! YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL I DIDN'T KILL YOU AFTER I HAD YOU! HOW COULD SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT ABOUT ME, AND SAY IT TO THE MEDIA! I AM THE LAUGHING STOCK OF THE ENTIRE SHIRE! WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Then the dial tone. Rosie had hung up on her first-born. Elanor pushed the Call End button on the phone and slammed it down. "I HATE Rose Vivian Gamgee. Don't let me forget that, Fastred." 


End file.
